We rode into the courtyard just as Grim arrived back from St. Olcan’s in the company of Flannan, with Ripple following like a gray shadow. It was almost dark. Unless Geiléis had invited Flannan to supper, he must have something particular to tell us. Hadn’t I ordered him to stay away until the ritual?

Grim was unusually quiet, even by his standards. He looked wrung out, exhausted. And sick, the same as this morning. Seemed a day of work at the monastery had not settled his stomach.

“You all right?” I asked while Flannan was speaking to Senach, who had come to the door to welcome us.

Grim answered with a grunt that might have meant yes or no. Not sick, I thought; or not in the ordinary meaning of the word. Something different. Something I should have recognized earlier.

“We can talk if you want,” I said under my breath. “When you’re ready.”

“Nothing to tell.” Grim rolled his shoulders, eased his back. “You?”

“Found a spot for the ritual. And . . .” Morrigan save me, had that encounter with the tiny woman been only this morning? “Something else too. I’ll tell you later.” Flannan was coming over. He wore a broad smile. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” I said to him.

“I found something.” Flannan’s eyes were alight with excitement. “A document—it could be exactly what you’re looking for. I’m almost sure what’s set down there is the story of this monster and the Tower of Thorns. I found it in the—”

“Supper is almost ready.” Senach was courteous, as always. I was in no doubt, however, that he had interrupted the conversation on purpose. “There’s hot water available in your quarters, Mistress Blackthorn; you might like to refresh yourselves before we gather for the meal. Master Flannan, I’m sure Lady Geiléis will want to be present when you share the news of this discovery. Meanwhile you may also wish to avail yourself of our home comforts. I don’t imagine they provide hot baths at St. Olcan’s.”

We were neatly separated. Dau took Flannan off to the men’s quarters while Grim and I went to our own chamber. There was a screen now, of Grim’s making; it had a spray of flowers painted on one side and a fearsome hound on the other. The artwork lacked the refinement of, say, an illuminated capital. But there was pleasing life in the images. Another of Grim’s surprising talents. I wondered often what he had been before; what manner of life he had led. Being stuck with me was a waste of what he had to give, even if it was his choice. If I chose to go south with Flannan, I’d be setting Grim free. When I thought of it that way, it felt like less of a betrayal.

I had first bath. Scrubbed off the sweat and grime of the ride; tried to scrub away my misgivings along with them. On the other side of the screen, there was a heavy silence.